Wicked Witchcraft
by camweasley
Summary: James and Lily discover their new favorite song. Jily Oneshot (with mentions of Blackinnon) rated T for mild language just to be safe. ps. this is total fluff


It's 3 hours until the end of Halloween so this is just in the nick of time, but Happy (Sad?) Jilytober! Obvs I don't own any of this. And if you've never listened to "Witchcraft" by Frank Sinatra, please do yourself a favor and play it immediately.

* * *

There's music coming from his room. That's not uncommon. Not anymore.

He can hear it all the way from the bottom of the stairs that lead to the Seventh Year boy's dormitory. As he ascends higher, James can hear that it sounds like that Sinatra bloke Lily's so fond of, but he doesn't recognize this song. By the time he's outside the door he can hear a few stray words.

 _fingers, strikes, witchcraft_.

Witchcraft? Muggles don't know about witchcraft and James is almost certain Lily said Sinatra is a muggle. Maybe he's wrong, he thinks, and this is someone else's song. Either way, he's about to find out.

James opens the door, and there, as expected, is Lily, lying on the floor in front of his bed, singing along to the record spinning on her turntable and making multicolored clouds with her wand.

She sings loudly, blissfully unaware of James slowly entering the room. He stands right next to the door and watches her, red hair splayed all around her, a soft smile on her face, her eyes relaxed but focused as she belts, "wicked witchcraft."

"All right, I know I heard it that time!" James exclaims, breaking Lily out of her trance. He feels a little bad about it…or he would if it didn't mean the smile that had been directed at her wandwork was now aimed at him instead.

"Heard what?" she asks. "The song?"

"Is this by the Sinatra man?"

"Yes," she says.

"Then how does he know about wizards?" James asks.

Lily stares at him for a moment, uncomprehending. Finally, she laughs. "Oh, it's not…it's not _our_ kind of magic. It's more…romantic."

"Wizards can be romantic."

Lily gets up and walks to James, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Well of course you can be, but just listen."

He does, while she stays pressed against him, and before he knows it, they're swaying along to the music.

The song ends but Lily doesn't move. They stand there, listening to the crackling of the vinyl and enjoying each other's warmth.

"It is a rather nice song," James says, finally.

"Mhmm," Lily replies into his chest.

They stand in silence for a few more minutes.

"Hey Lils? Wanna play it again?"

She points her wand at the record and it moves back to the beginning of the song.

This time, they do more than sway. They sing loudly and off-key until their throats are raw. They experiment with dips and twirls and all the silly moves they've seen their respective pairs of parents do at weddings and work parties and even though James laughs when Lily suggests they're turning into old people like their parents, his heart jumps at the thought of someday being an old person like his parents with Lily.

By the end of the night, they've played the song at least twenty times and are thoroughly exhausted by the time they fall into bed, grateful that tomorrow is Saturday.

* * *

For the rest of the year, it becomes a tradition of theirs. Every Friday, without fail, they arrange for at least ten minutes of slow dancing to the sounds of Frank Sinatra. At first, it annoys the rest of the Marauders to no end, but by February, they're fully committed to the tradition. Remus and Peter hold competitions between the two of them to see who can lip sync better, while Sirius brings Marlene up to their room (but they never slow dance—unless it's to lovingly mock James and Lily.)

One Friday in late May, Lily trudges up the stairs, exhausted from a long day of Head duties and tutoring Third Years in Potions. Every step brings more excitement at the thought of soon being able to dance away her day in the company of her best friends and the love of her life.

Until she hears the music already playing.

 _no defense, heat, common sense_

James is playing "Witchcraft" without her and she's a little more hurt than she'd like to admit to herself. Every Friday for months now, he's waited for her, without fail, before starting the music. Of all the days for him to break tradition, he had to pick the one where she's already tired and stressed.

She opens the door, ready to scold him, no matter if it's in front of Marlene and the boys (it won't be the first time they've seen), but stops short when she takes in the scene.

No one is there but James, and he's wearing his nicest dress robes. The room is adorned with roses and lilac and everything is bathed in a warm, golden light. The music plays on the turntable, but it's softer than it usually is.

"James, what?"

"Hang on." He says as he walks over to her. He wraps his arms around her and they gently begin to sway to the music, just like they did the first time she ever played the song for him. She's pressed close enough against him to hear him ever so quietly singing along with the song.

As it ends, Lily sighs. "It really is rather nice."

"Mhmm," James says.

She pulls away from him. "So what's going on, with all the decorations I mean?"

James pauses for a moment. He runs a hand through his hair and Lily finally notices how nervous he looks.

"Well, I wanted to do something special…"

"For what?" she asked.

"Proposing."

His eyes go wide and he slams a hand over his mouth. "Oh bollocks," he says, "I've just ruined my own proposal. 'S'fitting I suppose, I managed to muck up every attempt to ask you out for three years, why not fail at asking you to marry me too."

He laughs that very distinct laugh of his that Lily used to think was smug conceit, but now knows is reserved for his most self-conscious moments.

She stares at him, taking in every detail of his face, his mussed hair, his slightly crooked glasses that he never bothers to fix. In the back of her mind, she notes that the song has begun to repeat on it's own, and as she looks at James and the room he's so beautifully decorated, she takes a mental picture, more vivid and alive than any wizarding photo could ever be.

"Could you please say something, Lily? Even if it's no, I can take it. Had a lot of practice." He chuckles again and Lily pulls herself out of her reverie.

"Well, technically you haven't asked yet," she teases.

"Oh, right." He drops to a kneeling stance a little too enthusiastically, slamming his knee on the floor in the process. He takes her hands in his and says, "Lily, will you—"

"Yes. Absolutely," she grins. "Now get back up and dance with me."

He slides the ring onto her finger, but she doesn't even look at it—she's too focused on him. She's got a lifetime to look at the ring, but only a second to look at him as he is at this very moment. And that's a thousand times more beautiful than any jewelry.

He stands back up and pulls her into a passionate kiss before sinking her into a low dip. She laughs and hits feebly at his chest until he pulls her back up and spins her around.

They dance for the rest of the night and Lily decides that this is definitely her favorite Friday dance party of all time.


End file.
